


no more war (give me peace)

by iv (ivan)



Series: drop our anchors in a storm [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game), DCU
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Denial, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 02:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12807441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivan/pseuds/iv
Summary: oswald and charlie and the aftermath of her nearly dying and him accidentally kind of becoming a better person; a collection of post-fix/conflict short oneshots about charlie and oz dealing with what happened, normal life and each other.





	1. scars

Thomas Elliot had left Charlie some scars.

The most obvious one was on her chest; reverse T-shaped, pink, long - a physical reminder of what happened, of someone taking her heart away from her.

Oswald seemed to have a problem moving on.

“Oh, come on.” she’d say, touching his favorite scar of hers, the one running across the bridge of his nose. “Just pretend it’s not there!”

“That’s sort of hard, you know.” he’d mutter in response. “I almost lost you.”

And she wouldn’t say anything - she could understand him. He lost everything and everyone - and the fact the possibility of losing her as well seemed to be so terrifying to him was oddly flattering.

He’d often kiss her scar, as if his kisses could turn back time, reverse the damage; he didn’t try to hide his guilt over what happened, his fear. According to others, when her fate was still uncertain and she was being operated - he was a wreck and firmly refused to leave the hospital.

People of Gotham only knew one Oswald Cobblepot - resentful, vengeful, impulsive, deadly ambitious. Only the selected few knew that other side of him - loyal, surprisingly patient, sentimental. He was an awful person - but even his awfulness was sprinkled with some good here and there. Even his dark, bitter heart was beating for someone - and she was this someone.

He kissed her scar often; and she didn’t mind, same way she didn’t mind being woken up in the middle of the night because Oswald needed to put his ear to her chest and hear her heart beating under the skin, under the scar.

“It’s alright.” she’d whisper, pulling him closer. “I’m here. I’m alive.”

“I know.” he’d whisper back, his skin warm against hers. “I love you.”

He’d often fall back asleep listening to her heartbeat; and she didn’t mind.

***

The scar wasn’t pretty; but it was there - and Charlie decided to give herself some time to maybe try and get used to it. If not, plastic surgery was always an option - she could get rid of it, of this mark of where her chest was cut open and a man stole her heart away from her.

“Do you think it’s ugly?” Charlie once asked Oswald, looking at her own reflection.

“The scar?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a part of you.” he said slowly, the way he would when he was stalling. “No part of you is ugly to me.”

“Yes, I know.” she said absentmindedly, brushing the scar with her fingertips. “You communicate it quite clearly… Quite often.”

They were in their bedroom; Oswald was lying in bed, glancing at her from time to time - and she was sitting in front of her dressing table, topless. Their dog was napping in the corner; it was a quiet Saturday afternoon, one of many.

(Their life became oddly normal when it turned out Black Mask persuaded the judge into sentencing Oswald and Vicki to community service and use their apparent mental problems as an argument. Community service and compulsory therapy - people of Gotham weren’t too pleased about it.)

“You didn’t answer my question though.” she eventually pointed out, turning around to face him. “Is it ugly?”

“No part of you is ugly.” he repeated; but he wasn’t looking at her. “Especially not your chest.” he added, referring to many hours he spent taking advantage of her sensitive breasts. “I think I made it quite clear?”

“You’re talking a lot.” she pointed out, getting up and slowly walking up to him. “You’re going on around the topic.”

“You _know_ I’m chatty.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

She sat on his lap, her chest few inches from his face, her _scar_ few inches from his face - and he looked up.

“Hey there.” he said; but the spark in his eye was sad, rather than playful, as his smirk would imply.

“Look at it.” she said quietly, grabbing his face with her hands. “Look at it. Is it ugly?”

He looked at her scar, and there was something odd in his eyes; as if he _looked_ , but didn’t _see_.

“You don’t like it, do you?” she asked him quietly, grabbing one of his hands and moving it to her chest; she saw and felt his barely concealed flinch when his fingertips touched the scar.

“Of course I don’t like it.” he finally said, his voice tense and stiff. “I hate what happened to you. I hate what he did to you - but it’s not about _me_ , it’s about _you_.”

“You said it yourself though.” she said, not moving from his lap. “You’re used to _just_ losing people, not _almost_ losing. I know this was hell for you. Me, on the other hand?” she said with a shrug. “I was out for the most part. It just feels… Surreal. Like it didn’t happen to me.”

“But it did.” he whispered hoarsely.

“It wasn’t your fault.” she said, repeating what she already told him countless times. “I’m here, I’m alive - because you _saved_ me.”

“I didn’t do _shit._ If I saved you - _this_ wouldn’t be there.” he said, touching her scar again, tracing it with his index finger. “I was unconscious. And then I nearly begged Batman. That’s all I did.”

“And it was enough. Don’t blame yourself.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and lowered her head, touching his forehead with hers.

“I’m not dead, Oswald.” she whispered, looking him in the eye. “I’m alive, and my heart’s beating.”

“I don’t know what would I do if you died.” he whispered back. “I think I’d burn Gotham down.”

“And then I’d come back to life just to yell at you.” she said and he snickered. “Especially if you’d start with Lafontaine’s. When are you going to take me out? You know, now that we’re a normal couple…”

“I’ll try to get a reservation tomorrow.” he promised her. “I love you, did you know that?”

“Yeah, I think you mentioned it once or twice.”

He kissed her, and eventually his lips slid onto her neck and she tilted her head.

“Lower.” she whispered with her eyes closed; he brushed her scar with his lips before demonstrating her - over and over again - he’s being honest when he claims no part of her is ugly to him.

He kissed her scar a few more times; but she could say he’d rather not look at it.

***

As a sign of a good will, Bruce invited both of them to a masquerade; the invitation didn’t mention Oswald by name - but it did mention a plus one.

“And there’s no one else I’d take as my plus one.” Charlie stated. “And I really want you to come.

“I never said I _don’t_ want to come.”

They bought their masks - a very elegant, ostentatious filigree one for her and something subtler and sharper for him - and she showed him a dress she wanted to wear.

He stated she’s going to look beautiful - and she did. The dress was pale blue, very flowy, decorated with countless tiny beads and sequins; and it had a deep, subtle cleavage, decorated in a clever way that made it look more like parting smoke. It exposed and accentuated her breasts - along with the scar between them.

“Everyone’s eyes will be on you.” Oswald choked out after she put it on.

“And yours?”

“Mine especially.” he said, trying to sound playful; but he failed miserably.

Everyone’s eyes were on her that night; and people avoided looking at Oswald as much as possible. They avoided talking to him, they avoided acknowledging his presence; and Charlie took great pleasure in dragging him along from conversation to conversation, introducing him, watching people squirm as they’re trying their best to not appear rude.

Even with their masks on, the majority of people couldn’t hide their glances directed at her scar.

“God, this is so awkward.” Oswald whispered to her once.

“Do you want to go home?”

“Are you kidding? No, of course not!”

And when she looked at him - he was grinning with satisfaction. Gotham’s prodigal son had returned - and he was making it awkward for _everyone_ , his mere presence serving as a grim reminder of what Gotham did to his family, of what Gotham made him do.

People didn’t want to look at him, so of course they looked at her scar; and she kept her head high, even as she heard two women discussing what happened to Thomas in hushed whispers, even as she recognized one of the masks, remembering it from the hellish evening at Elliot’s Sommerset mansion.

The woman stared at her scar and there was jealousy in her eyes.

“Is everything alright, love?” Oswald asked, picking up two glasses of champagne from a nearby tray and handing her one. “You look pale.”

“Can you kiss me?” she asked, returning her attention to him. “The way I like?”

“Oh, but darling, we’re in _public_.”

“I’ll be decent.”

He snickered and kissed her just the way she liked; raising her chin with his index finger, brushing her bottom lip with his thumb. It was a quick and light kiss - since they were in public - but it was enough.

Everyone’s eyes were on her; but that one woman looked at her scar with jealousy and Charlie shuddered, thinking about Elliot’s fingers touching her beating heart.

“You know…” she whispered to Oswald that night, in their bedroom. “I sometimes wish I could take it out and wash it.”

“Your heart?”

“Yes.” she whispered; he sighed and brushed her scar with his fingertips, still refusing to look at it.

“I’d wash it for you.” he eventually said. “I’d be gentle.”

She slid out of his embrace and sat atop on him, putting her hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eye.

“Elliot claims he did what he did out of love.” she breathed out; he remained completely still. “Would _you_ do something like this out of love? Would you cut me open, take my heart out, leave me dying?”

“Charlie-” he said softly, but she shook her head.

“Answer me.” she choked out, tears gathering in her eyes. “Would you?”

“Elliot’s love wasn’t directed at _you_. It was directed at your mother. It wasn’t about you, it was never about _you_.”

He carefully reached out to touch her face.

“Of course I wouldn’t do this.” he finally said. “Not out of love, at least. Not to you.”

“So wouldn’t you want to _see_ my heart? To _feel_ it?”

“What I want in regards to your heart is for it to stay inside you. And to maybe hear it from time to time.”

Silence fell between them, and he suddenly looked away; she kept staring at him, not sure of what exactly is she trying to accomplish.

“I once had a dream, you know.” he eventually said - very quietly, hesitantly. “That Batman didn’t make it on time and you died. I think that was the first time I woke you up to listen to your heartbeat.”

“I know you wouldn’t do this to me.” she eventually whispered. “Not you. Not to me. But I want you to know… You’re the one person I wouldn’t mind touching my heart. I know you’d be gentle with it.”

They didn’t talk about this conversation again; and she never told him about the woman who looked at her and her scar with jealousy.

***

But what Elliot did - it didn’t leave her with just a physical scar.

One night, she asked Oswald to choke her; she liked it when he choked her, because he always knew just how to squeeze her throat to not overdo it. He always knew how to play her body; and she liked the feeling of his slender fingers on her neck, so rough yet so tender.

But that night, as he wrapped his fingers around her - it came back to her, that afternoon when Elliot cornered her. It all came back to her; his fingers on her throat, the choking, paralyzing fear, the numbness creeping into her limbs, the scream stuck in her throat. It all came back to her and she panicked, frantically pushing Oswald away, trying to get away, his face melting into one with Elliot’s, his eyes cold, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed, trying to get away.

(If it wasn’t for the bedroom doors being closed, Pingu would probably rip Oswald’s throat out, judging from the sounds coming from the outside, the barking and the growling.)

“Oh my god.” she eventually muttered, calming down; she was curled up in a far corner and Oswald was sitting on the bed, with his back to her. “O-Oswald?”

“Can I look now?” he asked. “I turned away because you told me I look like him.”

Instead of responding, Charlie slowly and shakily got up and - holding onto the wall, as her legs were still weak - started to stumble in direction of bed.

He heard her footsteps and turned around; and he looked so tired and defeated she nearly teared up again.

He silently got up, walked up to her and picked her up; and she wrapped her arms around his neck, hiding her face between his neck and shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” she muttered.

“I should have known.” he remembered. “You told me he choked you - I should have _known_.”

“It’s not your fault.” she whispered as he sat back down, still holding her, her arms still around his neck, her face still hidden. “None of this is your fault.”

“I _sent_ you there.” he whispered back. “Let me have my guilt, Charlie. For once in my life - I feel _guilty_. Let me have it.”

“Alright.” she said quietly. “I love you.”

“I know, love. I love you too.”

This time she fell asleep listening to his heartbeat; even though she couldn’t see it - she was sure there’s a scar on his heart. Maybe not as big as the one on her chest - but a scar nevertheless.

What Elliot did left more scars than the one on her chest; and even though that one was the most visible - it was the least important. It could be removed. Fixing what Thomas did to Charlie and Oswald, to their hearts - it would take much more time and effort.

But it was alright. They had time.

And life went on; but he never grew tired of listening to her heartbeat.

She didn’t mind.

 


	2. fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> charlie's distracting herself from thinking about elliot; oswald's happy to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sex happens. this was supposed to be about oswald and charlie finding small things they like about each other - but it's sad porn instead. because of course.

Oswald liked finding out new things about Charlie - small things. Very mundane ones.

One day - on accident - he found out she’s ticklish.

She asked him to blindfold her, and he happily obliged; he loved those small signs of trust. “Blindfold me”. “Tie me up”. “Surprise me”.

She was reacting wonderfully to the feather he was using on her; it was soft and pointy and precise and she sighed and whimpered quietly as it was dancing on her skin, drawing circles and abstract shapes. From time to time he’d gently tease one of her sensitive, pink nipples with it; and she’d writhe and arch her back, pouting as he took the pleasant touch away.

Eventually he began to drag the feather lower and lower, in direction of her abdomen; he knew how she reacts to a painting brush - but he was curious to see how her body will react to the tip of a feather gently brushing her sensitive nub.

On its way between her legs, the feather’s tip briefly dipped into her navel - and she instantly giggled, twitching slightly.

“Oh goodness.” Oswald said playfully, slowly circling her navel with the feather. “Are you ticklish?”

“What? No!” she said instantly; and he snickered.

“Oh really?” he asked, once again dipping the feather’s tip into the crevice and twirling it; Charlie pursed her lips and her cheeks turned red. “And you’re not at all laughing right now, right?”

“R-right!” she choked out. “I’m not ticklish!”

“Uh-uh.” he said nonchalantly, dragging the feather across her abdomen, just above the hem of her undies.

“How about a game, love?” he asked. “A gambit. A bet.”

“...yeah?” she asked cautiously and he smirked; there was a note of curiosity in her voice, like always when it came to their games and rewards.

(She was shameless in her submissive nature; but he didn’t mind. He liked the sounds she made too much.)

“See, Charlie… I don’t believe you.” he stated, returning to circling her navel; she pursed her lips again. “I think you’re ticklish. But, since you’re so adamant in stating you’re not… You probably won’t have any problem with what I’m about to suggest.”

“Go on.”

“I’m going to test you.” he announced. “If you laugh - you lose, I win. If you don’t - you win, I lose. And the winner… Gets unconditional control until midnight.”

He could see the corners of her mouth twitch in a poorly concealed smile; they played this one before. It was their own version of _Simon Says_ \- but kinky.

“Alright.” she breathed out. “Can you at least take the blindfold off?”

Oswald snickered.

“Oh, Charlie.” he said mockingly. “What for? If you _really_ aren’t ticklish - you won’t laugh even when it happens suddenly.”

She had her hands cuffed above her head; so experimentally he dragged the feather under her arm, closely watching her reaction.

She pursed her lips so tightly they turned into a narrow line; she bucked her hips and he could see she’s biting her own cheeks - but she didn’t let a single sound out.

“Not ticklish at all, huh?” he said playfully, repeating the process under her other arm. “Not a giggle, not a single sound… It looks like I lost.” he sighed theatrically.

Just as she relaxed and grinned with satisfaction - he suddenly dragged the feather’s stiff shaft under her arm and she laughed uncontrollably.

“Y-you cheater!” she eventually choked out. “That’s not fair!”

“I never said anything about playing fair, love. The odds… Were _never_ in your favor.”

“Asshole.” she muttered as he took her blindfold off. “Jerk. Prick.”

“Will a kiss lighten up your mood?”

“You know it won’t!” she scoffed, her cheeks flushed. “Kiss me, you ass.”

He kissed her, simultaneously lightly scratching her ribs with his fingernails; she giggled into his mouth and it was a very sweet sound.

“My time starts now, by the way.”

“ _Of course_ it does.” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “So, how is it gonna be?”

“Oh, I think I’m going to be a jerk.” he said carelessly. “Since apparently… You _do_ like it when I’m a jerk.”

She rolled her eyes again - but she did it with a smile. He knew she enjoys it when he’s in charge of her pleasure - they established it plenty of times. Fish Mooney stated their dynamic is _adorably archetypical_ , with him as a dom and her as a sub; but they didn’t mind. It was her who dictated the speed and intensity anyway; the more she’d ask for more the more he’d prolong everything - and if she called him names? He definitely was on the right track.

“I do.” she eventually admitted. “You’re an asshole, but I love it.”

“Keep talking, love.” he said, uncuffing her. “Those sweet words won’t help you… But I like hearing your confessions.”

“You’re the worst.” she purred, sitting up. “So now live up to this opinion and tell me how is it gonna be today.”

“Today… You’re going to be your worst enemy.” he announced. “Remember how I said I’d love to watch you some day? Well - I’m going to. During the next few hours, from time to time I’m going to tell you to touch yourself - and you will.”

“And I will.” she agreed breathlessly. “What’s the catch?”

“Oh, I think you know _exactly_ what’s the catch.” he said with a wink - and she groaned.

“Right. Of course.”

“And then… You’ll see. See, I don’t like being lied to.” he added, trying to sound threatening - but to no avail. “And you _lied_ to me, Charlie.”

“Mmmm.” she said, her eyes half closed. “God, you’re awful.”

“Right?”

He took her hand and guided it between her legs, looking her in the eye.

“Sing for me.” he said quietly. “Over the fabric… For now.”

And she did, and he watched and listened; her breath was shaky as she was stroking herself and he could tell she wants to get rid of her underwear - but she didn’t.

It was a long few hours for her - and he wasn’t making anything easy for her, not at all.

“Oh, you look beautiful.” he said as he was watching her from his favorite chair, her hand between her legs, teasing herself with her own fingers, careful to not push herself over the edge.

(It’s not like there would be any consequences if it _did_ happen - neither of them was really into the sadism and punishment thing.)

“It’s time to walk Pingu.” Charlie muttered feverishly. “God, I think I might go _crazy_ tonight.”

“Right?” Oswald said quietly, leaning in her direction. “Keep going, Charlie.”

She groaned, but resumed her gentle teasing; and with her eyes clouded with desire and flushed cheeks she looked magnificent.

“Can I take a picture of you?” he suddenly asked; and she turned her head and nodded.

“Don’t worry.” he said, picking up his phone. “It’s for my eyes only.”

“Leak it.” she muttered. “I want Elliot to see it.”

He sighed, once again remembering their ordeal with Thomas Elliot; it wasn’t pleasant - and Charlie seemed to be angry at the fact Elliot’s obsession wasn’t even about _her_. She nearly died because of it - but it was about a person who gave birth to her, rather than herself.

“I don’t want him to see it.” Oswald said eventually. “I don’t want him to look at you ever again.”

“He was making moves on me.” she whispered. “He once roofied me… I think he wanted to pretend I’m my mother. Dad always said I look just like her when she was younger…”

Her hand stopped moving, and he didn’t say anything.

“I used to think you see me as a replacement for Lady Arkham.” she eventually said and he looked away; she mentioned it once or twice. “And I know she’s a lesbian, so there was nothing on her end, but… Did you love her, Oswald?”

“Not the same way I love you.” he said. “Not the same way Elliot claims he loves your mother. I loved Lady Arkham, and she loved me - same way Quinzel and Nygma love each other.”

“I love you.” she whispered. “I love you, I love you. We should walk Pingu.” she added in a normal tone, getting up and walking towards the stairs.

He followed her with his eyes, lost in thought; for a while it seemed like she took everything quite well - almost dying, him nearly being locked up for life, and so on - but it looked like she simply needed time to process everything. She’s been acting weird from time to time - but it didn’t scare him. She nearly died at the hands of a monster - in a way, he could see himself in her behavior.

“Oswald!” she called out to him from upstairs, bringing him back to Earth.

When he entered the bedroom - she was holding a long piece of rope.

“Tie it.” she said, handing it to him. “Go big or go home and so on.”

“Are you… Alright?” he asked carefully, wrapping the rope around her waist.

“Not really, no.” she said calmly. “I almost died, Oswald. But I’m managing.”

“It took me over twenty years and a lot of spilled blood to get over my trauma. I have no idea how are you so… Calm.”

“You’re great at keeping my mind busy.” she said quietly, caressing his hand with her fingertips. “If it wasn’t for you… I’d probably lose my mind.”

“It might be wise to let some of this steam off at some point, you know.”

“Not today.” she said, shaking her head. “Today I want to be busy thinking just how badly I want an orgasm or five. But tomorrow… I’ll lock myself in the basement and scream. How about that?”

“Alright.” he said, leaning in to kiss her. “I love you.”

“You better.” she muttered into his lips. “Because I’m about to show you what I bought when you weren’t looking.”

She showed him a pair of nipple clamps - from the softer kind, with red silicone ends.

“I tried the sharp metal kind and it hurt like hell.” she said nervously. “So those have to do.”

“I can imagine.” he said, hiding his anxiety behind cocky playfulness; he reached out and lightly pinched her nipple and she gasped. They were always very sensitive - and he could only imagine how sensitive they are now, after good few hours of walking the gossamer thread between denial and release. He definitely enjoyed the fact she bought this thing - what he didn’t enjoy was the fact she seemed to avoid facing what happened to her. She was getting lost in hedonistic pleasure - and he knew this feeling well, this pleasant numbness coming from pushing the darkness away, before inevitably stumbling and falling, falling, falling.

(He didn’t exactly become a better man - but he definitely didn’t want _her_ to follow into his footsteps and spill a river of blood.)

“Why are you looking at me like this?” she asked. “I thought you'd like them, I even picked the cute kind.” she added, nudging the decorative heart-shaped pendants.

“Oh, I _do_ like them.” he said, taking the clamps away from her. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

“I’m a big girl, Oz. I’ll be alright.”

He froze; that was the second time she ever called him _Oz_. He was sure she forgot about this version of his name.

“Oh!” she realized. “I’m sorry, I know Bruce used to call you that, do you want me to-”

“No.” he interrupted her raspily. “Say it again. I… Forgot how it feels, being called that.”

She smiled.

“Oz.” she said as he was putting the clamps on. “Oz. Oz. Oz. _Oz._ ” she breathed out as he experimentally nudged her nipple. “God, this feels good. I bet in fifteen minutes I’m going to be a mess.”

“Can you promise me something?”

“First I’d like to know what am I agreeing to.”

“Let me help you.” he said, looking her in the eye. “Alright? I know I’m not a model of mental health myself, considering the revolution and my brief affair with surveillance and totalitarianism, but… I don’t want you to become me. At least, not officially.” he added. “Go after the Hush all you want, just… Don’t end up same way my crusade against the Waynes did. Alright?”

“Alright.” she breathed out. “You know that in my current state I’d agree to anything, right?”

“I do.” he said with a smirk. “Come on, get dressed. We have to walk Pingu - and I have to keep an eye on you.”

People in the park avoided them with their eyes; and Charlie did her best to pretend everything’s fine and dandy, even though her breath was shaky and her cheeks were flushed. The sources of her anguish - the clamps on her nipples, the knotted rope between her legs - were safely hidden from prying eyes; to outsiders Charlie probably appeared to have a fever - if she appeared at all, considering people would rather not look at her. Not only she brought the downfall of Gotham’s most respected surgeon - she was also shamelessly in love with a violent criminal, unjustly free to walk the streets and live a normal life.

“Good evening, Regina!” Oswald said jauntily to Regina Zellerbach who seemed to be doing her best to disappear. “Lovely weather, innit?”

“Yes.” she said cautiously, nervously looking around. “You look… Good, mister Cobblepot.”

“Freedom and money do _wonders_.” he stated with a smirk. “And so does love.”

Making people uncomfortable with his mere existence was Oswald’s latest hobby; it certainly was more interesting than building models or collecting bus tickets. And Regina Zellerbach was his favorite victim - the chairwoman of Wayne Enterprises board, the one board member who never trusted him. He knew she dislikes him; and it was mutual. But now there was nothing she could do; the law made its decision and there was nothing that could stop Oswald Cobblepot from taking a walk in the park with a woman who allegedly worked with the mayor to bring him to justice.

(Everyone knew it’s horseshit, no one could prove it.)

“Can we go home?” Charlie muttered to him; her voice was shaky.

He glanced at her; her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed.

“Midnight’s still two hours away, darling.” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist. “What, are you giving up?”

“No, but you mentioned a surprise… And I’m curious.” she said very quietly. “I like your surprises.”

“Mmmm.” he said, glancing in the direction of Pingu. “I don’t know. Convince me.”

“I bought the entire set of clamps.” she said very quietly. “There’s a third one. And I think you’d like it.”

“That’s a _very_ convincing argument.” he stated. “Give me a kiss and we have a deal.”

She kissed him; her lips were trembling and warm and her breath tasted like honey.

“You’re very sweet.” he pointed out between kisses. “I wonder if that applies to the _entirety_ of you…”

Someone scoffed with disgust and Charlie laughed, covering her mouth with her hand; Oswald looked around, trying to determine who did they shock with their indecency this time.

“Naturally I meant your personality!” he said, rolling his eyes theatrically. “Because lips so sweet surely are accompanied by a matching personality.”

“It’s alright. They left.”

“For the record… I was talking about-”

“I know!” she interrupted him hastily. “Let’s go home so you can find out, mm?”

He winked at her and whistled a few times; Pingu came running, with his tongue out and his paws covered in mud.

“Lead the way, furball!” Oswald said; and Pingu ran home and they followed, his arm around her waist, her head on his shoulder.

***

“So, darling, I have a proposition for you.”

They were in their bedroom; Charlie was only in her undies and sighed with relief as he took the clamps off - but the sigh was quickly followed by a moan as he gently rubbed her nipples with his fingers.

“Let’s play a game.” he continued, taking his hand away. “You win - you’re free. You lose… You’re not free, and I get to be a jerk for a while longer.”

“Alright.” she muttered. “What are the rules?”

“The rules are simple. You’re going to just lie down… And be completely still for five minutes, as I try to get a reaction out of you. You move - you lose… But let’s face it, you win no matter what.”

“Mmmm.” she muttered, lying down with her hands parallel to her torso; he moved them above her head. “Are you going to cheat again?”

“Maybe.” he said, reaching for a blindfold and putting it on her. “What, do you want this to be over?”

“No.” she said with satisfaction. “It’s been a while since you last were acting like a prick. I missed this.”

She was right; ever since her near-death experience and his subsequent release - he often found himself unable to play the sexual cat and mouse with her. There were moments - when she’d look at him with her eyes hazy and half closed and her lips parted - when he’d wonder if that was what Elliot felt when he was choking her out.

(He almost lost her - and being playfully cruel and relentless suddenly became difficult.)

“Well, darling.” he said, setting the timer in his phone for five minutes. “You know what they say. The wait… Makes everything sweeter.”

He didn’t try particularly hard during those five minutes - because he had an ace up his sleeve. The patches of skin between her thighs and her mound, those two tiny crevices - Charlie was exceedingly sensitive there.

He used it against her during the last ten seconds; he suddenly dragged a feather there and she impulsively bucked her hips and he snickered, stopping the timer.

“Looks like you lost.” he said with satisfaction as she grinned. “Aren’t you worried?”

“No.” she said with a shrug. “Because I know I’m going to like what comes next.”

“And aren’t you frustrated?”

“Of course I am!”

“Good.” he said quietly, taking her hand and guiding it between her legs. “Sing for me, Charlie. I’ll get a few things… And be right back.”

And she sang for him, as he was gathering his things; it was a beautiful song, very breathy, soft like a wind.

“Alright, I’m back.” he announced. “Take the blindfold off. I want you to see.”

She obliged, and he pulled her panties down - and he could very clearly see her excitement.

“Oh, looks like someone’s having fun, mm?” he said, lightly rubbing her abdomen with his fingertips; and she nodded breathlessly.

First he reached for the last clamp - this one was softer.

“Alright, love.” he muttered. “Don’t move.”

She inhaled sharply as he put it on.

“Not too tight?” he asked, very gently nudging her clit with his fingertip; she arched her back.

“N-no.” she said in a shaky voice. “Do it again.”

But he only snickered and shook his head, reaching for restraints.

“I’ll do it plenty of times once you’re helpless and on my mercy.” he said. “Do you remember the safe word?”

“Wayne.”

He snickered quietly, putting the restraints on; clever cuffs with short chains, connecting her wrists to the ankles of her bent and slightly spread legs. If he had more time, he’d tie her up with red rope instead; but she seemed too impatient.

“So, Charlie.” he said, reaching for the feather again. “Any last words?”

“I love you.”

He blew her a kiss and she grinned; but her smile quickly went away when he focused his attention on her breasts and her stiff, sensitive nipples.

“You know…” he said, watching her reaction to the tip of the feather drawing slow circles just around those pink nubs. “I wonder if I can make you come just like this. What do you think?”

He lightly pinched one of them and she gasped.

“P-probably…” she breathed out as the feather started to go lower, lower, lower.

She bucked her hips and arched her back when the feather reached its destination - her very sensitive, completely exposed clit.

Her moans filled the air as he teased her with the lightest swirls; she writhed and gasped - and cried out in frustration when he sensed she’s close and took the feather away, returning his attention to her breasts.

“Did you really think it’s going to be so simple?” he asked, taking great pleasure in teasing her nips with his fingertips. “Oh, Charlie.”

He went on like this for a long time, with only teasing; she made some truly beautiful sounds when he used his tongue on her breasts and a feather on her clit. She bucked her hips furiously as he laughed in her face.

“Watch out, Charlie.” he warned her. “You’re giving me ideas.”

“Yeah?” she panted out, clearly trying to stop herself from moaning. “Like what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” he snickered, brushing her neck with his lips and sliding his hand between her legs, stroking her gently; she gasped.

With his lips and one hand on her breasts, and his other hand between her thigh, teasing, stroking - he let her believe this time she’s going to come. He let her believe that - only stopping just as she was already standing on the edge.

“Oh come on!” she said through gritted teeth, furiously bucking her hips. “You prick!”

“That’s me.” he agreed cheerfully, stealing a kiss from her; she bit his bottom lip. “Ooh, someone’s feisty.”

He provocatively brushed the skin of her abdomen with a feather and she gasped.

“I have a proposition, love.” he said, looking her in the eye; she bucked her hips as the feather’s tip just barely brushed her clit. “See, I’m still curious whether you’re as sweet as I think you are…”

“Yes?” she panted out. “Are you going to go down on me?”

“Mmmhm.” he said with a smirk. “But whether it ends up with you coming… Depends entirely on you.”

“Do you want me to beg? I can beg. I’m _great_ at begging.”

“Yes, you are.” he admitted tenderly. “So, my love - start begging… And better don’t stop.”

“Please.” she breathed out as he kissed her neck, dragging his teeth across her skin, making her shiver. “Please, please…”

“Mmm.” he muttered, gently teasing her nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Keep going.”

“Please, please, please…” she repeated shakily as he peppered her skin with kisses and light bites, moving lower, lower, _lower_.

He took the clamp off and looked up from between her legs; her head was raised and she was looking at him with infinite desperation in her eyes.

“Well?” he said quietly, resting his chin on her abdomen.

“Please…” she begged, her eyes hazy; and he laughed.

“Alright, love, you won. Now… Just relax.” he whispered.

She was sweet like honey, and soft like silk; and she melted under his lips and tongue, melted and arched her back as she finally came, after hours upon hours of denial. She called his name out, over and over; and he smirked and held her hips, rewarding her patience with an avalanche.

But she wasn’t finished.

“Uncuff me.” she demanded after catching her breath.

“That sounds almost like a threat.”

“It’s only fair _you_ got something out of this as well.” she said with a wink; and he felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine. Her sounds and movements worked like the best aphrodisiac; and to be honest - he hoped she’d say something like this.

She kissed him as soon as he uncuffed her; soon her hands began to wander, as he was getting out of his shirt.

“Oh my.” she whispered into his lips as her hand found its way between his thighs. “You _really_ like making me suffer, don’t you?”

“What can I say?” he said raspily as she was unzipping his pants. “You should see yourself one day.”

He stopped talking when he felt her lips on his neck and her fingers on his length, gentle and teasing. She smirked with satisfaction as he called out her name, tilting his head back; and she slid onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, looking him in the eye.

“I love you.” she said, her voice and eyelids heavy. “Fuck me.”

He smiled and kissed her, pushing her onto her back; she pulled him closer and soon they were lost in each other, not a care in the world.

She called his name out loudly and desperately, as if she was letting something different out; but it didn’t matter. All that mattered were her hands and her lips and her body.

(There was some weird desperation in the way she pulled him closer and arched her back.)

“I love you.” she whispered to him. “Thanks for distracting me.”

He didn’t say anything, instead pulling her closer; they all needed their distractions. And if she tripped, if she fell - he’d either catch her or hop in after her, so she wouldn’t be alone in her fall.

 


End file.
